On reviving the handwritten note…

Every November I consult a certain cookbook for Thanksgiving recipes where the pages are marked with memories – a 1998 letter from a friend then living in California sending updates about her pending wedding and a short funny thank you from a friend who passed away suddenly about a year after she sent it.  Stored in my dresser are cards from my sister and nieces, a note from my friend of longest duration and a letter I wrote to Daddy when he was working overseas – my mother found it among his things after he died.

My late friend Junior Doughty described himself as a letter-writing fool, a term that could be applied to most people who are writers by profession. Cammie Henry, the matron of Melrose Plantation and a committed letter-writer, kept detailed correspondence, filed, organized and eventually donated to the archives at Northwestern State University where they are utilized by historians, genealogists and other researchers. Women of the past often kept up with family in round robin letters that were forwarded and added to as they circulated amongst relatives too far away to visit in person.  Shared recipes, news of births and deaths and daily goings-on. Get out the Kleenex if you come across someone’s stash of wartime letters or exchanges made during any long separation. Tender words, beautiful penmanship, interesting stamps.

People don’t write letters anymore.

It’s no surprise when everyone’s lives are played out in real time on social media, a text is immediate and postage rates continue to rise. Even thank you notes, once essential to good manners, have fallen out of fashion. Shame.

Receiving a personal letter or note in the mail these days feels serendipitous, as is rediscovering a forgotten letter in a drawer, tied up with other mementoes, letters your parents or grandparents might have exchanged with their siblings, postcards from friends traveling abroad.  My aunt once told me that she kept all the sympathy cards she received after her son’s death and would reread them for months afterward.  I did the same after my dad’s passing. A text message, though appreciated, is not quite the same.

My daughter, a mental health professional, says handcrafts and skills like crochet, gardening, baking and carpentry have surged in popularity in recent years to fill a human craving for work with tactile materials. People are rediscovering the joy of a self-made product: a sweater for a child, a Christmas ornament for a friend, a loaf of sourdough for a neighbor. I would suggest that handwritten notes, like playing a musical instrument or meditating, are just as beneficial. There is a correlation between handwriting and mental clarity, as indicated by the popularity of journaling and gratitude lists. Writing things down encourages memory retention, thought organization and fine motor skills, abilities that can diminish with age.

We need something to do with our hands besides scrolling.

And so, I champion bringing back good old-fashioned letter writing, the bread-and-butter note, the friendly hello to someone you miss, the long lost pen pal, a love letter to the object of your affections. Proponents of mindfulness would encourage composing a message on a pretty piece of stationery, noticing the feel of the paper and the pen in hand, a joy for both writer and recipient. 

It costs next to nothing but is in a small way priceless. A small token, possibly kept in a book or bedside table, preserved for a future loved one, the paper you once held in your hands now in theirs and, like that letter I wrote to Daddy all those years ago, their link to you and your life after you are gone.